Far From Home
by Nitroid
Summary: With the pull of a trigger attached to the body swapping gun made in the lab of the Octavo Espada, Grimmjow and Ichigo get thrown into each other's bodies. Hilarity, general bafflement, adolescent hormonal imbalance and plenty of blooming romance. Grimm/Ichi.
1. Chapter 1

"Don't play with that! You don't know what's dangerous and what's going to corrode your skin on contact."

"Had a lot of experience, have you?"

"Hardly, but I know what's dangerous and what's not."

"Are you saying I don't?"

Grimmjow felt Nnoitra push Stark into him and stumbled against a table before regaining his balance. He turned to the other two with an annoyed look on his handsome face.

"Will you guys quit it?"

"He pushed me." Stark said as he yawned into Nnoitra's face. "Besides, I wasn't even trying to start a fight."

"Suck up!" Nnoitra hollered, not even bothering to keep his voice down.

"Shut up already!" Grimmjow grabbed Nnoitra by his shoulders. "Do you want Szayel to wake up?"

All three Espada turned to look balefully at the tall, rotating titanium pod in the center of the steel laboratory. For days on end – weeks, even – the pink haired Octavo had been skipping meals to 'rejuvenate' in his pod. Despite everyone else's curiosity as to what exactly Szayel was doing in there, no one really bothered asking for fear of being roped into his next experiment.

"I'd say right now he'd be about as weak as that Shinigami kid." Nnoitra snickered into Grimmjow's face. "The one you have a huge crush on."

"I do not!" Was what Grimmjow would have liked to holler, but at the very moment felt like punching Nnoitra in the gut for calling him out, so he did. The second his fist ploughed through air to hit the Quinto in the stomach, Nnoitra pulled the trigger on Szayel's molecular teleporting contraption.

Grimmjow was hit with a magnificent white beam and was sent flying to the back of the laboratory.

x

There was a sickly churning sensation in his gut, like he was being yanked about with an extra long piece of invisible string. Ichigo opened his eyes and instantly felt like hurling the contents of last night's dinner onto his bedroom floor. At second glance, the teen realized the room he was in wasn't his own.

What the hell had happened? Ichigo was sure he hadn't ingested anything out of date. Yuzu would never cook anything that had expired for the family.

"Grimmjow, everything alright?" Someone was snapping fingers at his right ear, then his left. "Sensory organs seem fine. Now, for vision. How many fingers am I holding up?"

A white-gloved hand was thrust before his face, three fingers waggling. Ichigo blinked and groaned a little.

"Uh, three." He mumbled.

"Good. How do you feel? Dizzy? A little sore?"

Ichigo reached up to scratch the back of his head. His hair seemed a lot longer and coarser than it usually was. He took a long look at his hands and gaped. Those did not look like his own hands! Longer fingers, broad nails and fair skin replaced his usually tanned hands.

"What?" Ichigo looked up and felt his insides freeze.

Szayel and a couple of other Espada were looking at him expectantly. Holy shit! What were they doing in Karakura? More importantly, what were they doing in his _bedroom_?

Ichigo looked around wildly. Walls of steel, shelves and cabinets stacked neatly with various bottles and boxes, three steel sinks and one large, long experiment table. He was in a laboratory.

How did this happen? When had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered was sleeping soundly in bed.

"Grimmjow?" Frowning, Szayel snapped his fingers before his face worriedly.

It was getting annoying. Ichigo swatted his hand away and scowled.

"He's fine." It must've been the appropriate reaction. Szayel shot him a relieved smile and nodded to Nnoitra. "I guess there's still some more refining to do with the Atomizer. I'll figure something out."

Aizen walked into view. Ichigo felt his heart leap up into his throat.

"Good. You may return to your quarters and rest. No more missions for today." Aizen gave him a dismissive wave and turned away to consult the pink haired Espada with a stack of papers.

Ichigo couldn't help but stare at him apprehensively. What was going on? If this was a dream, it sure as heck was a real one. He could even see the fine lines in Aizen's forehead as the Shinigami traitor frowned while Szayel said something.

"Let's get going." An Espada whom Ichigo had never fought before but knew him as Stark walked over and held out a hand. "Can you stand?"

This was the first time an Espada acted friendly toward him. No hostility at all in Stark's expression; it was crazy.

"We need to leave. Aizen wants Szayel to conduct some experiments for him and trust me, you do _not _want to be here when that happens." Ulquiorra strode over to look at him. "Grimmjow?"

Grimmjow? They thought he was Grimmjow! Ichigo couldn't wrap his mind around the utter strangeness. Well, maybe he did look like Grimmjow. But that was absurd, because … well, because! Mind shot with a high dose of confusion, Ichigo could only blink as he let himself get pulled up to his feet, supported by Stark and Nnoitra.

"Grimmjow obviously feels a little out of it." Szayel gave Ichigo's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You'll be back to normal after you get some rest."

Stark gave Grimmjow – nee Ichigo – a light pat on the back. "Hear that? All you need is some sleep."

So.

If Grimmjow was out of his own body, and Ichigo was in Grimmjow's, did that mean Grimmjow was in Ichigo's body? Ichigo barely realized they were at Grimmjow's bedroom until Stark pushed open a door with a beveled number six on it. It looked a lot like a hotel room's door. Once inside, Ichigo feasted his eyes on the interior. Bare white walls, blue bedspread, and a small wall rack of books. He was led to the bed and made to sit on it.

"Here, let me get your boots." Stark knelt down to undo the laces around Ichigo's feet.

The teen shot a weak smile at him and managed a mutter. "Thanks."

Stark gave him a surprised stare. His steel gray eyes narrowed suspiciously. Ichigo prayed he wouldn't realize who he really was. It suddenly occurred to him that Grimmjow probably never said thank you, ever. Which wasn't surprising, but Ichigo guessed he should've seen it coming.

"Feel better." Stark let it go after a short, somewhat tension-filled moment. "Get some sleep."

Ichigo scowled like he'd seen Grimmjow do – which wasn't hard because he was quite used to scowling himself. "Yeah."

Smirking, Stark turned away and followed after Ulquiorra and Nnoitra. The bedroom door shut with a quiet click. Ichigo exhaled a long sigh of relief. So they hadn't noticed he wasn't Grimmjow after all. He leapt out of bed and dashed to the small door that led to the bathroom.

Blue eyes, blue hair, a bone mask and very even white teeth. Grimmjow stared back at him with something akin to shock and disgust.

x

Grimmjow flailed – in a manly way, so he assured himself – and felt something hit him on the head. Or more likely, he'd hit something with his head. It hadn't hurt, but it was a bit of a shock for a few minutes of utter disorientation. Well, at least the sickening pull from somewhere around his bowels had vanished.

There was a small poke on his left knee. Something small was trying to crawl under the sheets with him. Huh. Sheets. When had he gone to bed? Grimmjow remembered being in Szayel's laboratory when Nnoitra had pulled the trigger with the molecular teleporting gun, aptly named Atomizer, with the firing end aimed at him. There had been a horrible yank on his stomach, a twining feeling constricting his intestines, and a whole lot of mixed up sound mashed around with his hearing. After that, he'd blacked out. Now, he was ready to kill Nnoitra, grind Pantera around his intestines and slice them up before turning him inside out like stripped pork. But because someone nice had put him to bed, Grimmjow figured he'd murder Nnoitra in a less sadistic way than he'd previously decided on.

The sky outside the window was a lovely shade of orange streaked with white clouds that were on the verge of revealing the sun. Something at the back of Grimmjow's memory sparked the thought that it was daybreak. Probably from one of those experiences he'd had from living as one of the beings he'd eaten.

Another thought, labeled his Most Sensible Common Sense, which Grimmjow happened to like the least because it told him exactly what he didn't want to hear despite it being the truth, said that Something Was Up.

And it was.

Grimmjow stared down at the rising tent beneath his bedcovers, and narrowed his eyes. He hadn't had a hard on in decades. Not since he'd been a teenage Arrancar. Then it hit him. There was no sun in Las Noches. Even if Aizen were to set him in a hypnotic state, Grimmjow could still figure out what was real and what wasn't.

The steady growing lump around his nethers seemed to be fighting itself. Grimmjow had no idea how his erection seemed to be doing it, but then again he had a sinking feeling this wasn't really a hard on.

And he was right. It seemed to be _counting_.

"Fifty seven, fifty eight, fifty nine, BADABOOM!"

A little sandy orange bear with brown frills leapt out from the blanket onto his stomach muscles. Grimmjow's first instinct was to squash it, but only curiosity held him back.

"Annnnd the teenager explodes with a giant splash!" The bear sat on his stomach and drummed a beat somewhere around his ribs with little bear hands.

"Wake up time, Ichigo! School's the best place for booby watching! If you don't go early, you'll miss the best girls! Which is what you haven't been doing, so you've never gotten a girl!" The bear ended up in a chuckling heap on his upper thighs.

Ichigo?

Grimmjow was sharp, even when he was half awake and confused. The bear had called him Ichigo, and this was _not _his quarters in Las Noches, nor was there a sun.

x

Christmas is coming. Who's excited? :)


	2. Chapter 2

It was early in the morning, and Ichigo bit the fiery urge to tear his hair out. Blue eyes and a conspicuously incredulous look mirrored his expression as Ichigo looked at himself over the bathroom sink. Every pore, every little detail looked exactly like Grimmjow. He couldn't get over it.

Yesterday had been horrible. From the dizzying, sickening pull around his intestines to the mass confusion involving Espada and Aizen, right down to being tucked into bed and made to sleep it off. Forcefully. With the implied threat that he would receive certain unwanted implications should he dare to defer his appointed sleep time.

To top it off, it wasn't even his bed. Ichigo had been vastly disappointed when he'd woken up to find himself still in Grimmjow's bedroom. Actually, vastly disappointed wouldn't cut it. Ichigo was downright aghast, purely stuck in a what-the-fuck-happened-to-me-how-when-why-what-do-I-do moment. He shifted in front of the mirror, flexing his left bicep experimentally.

Damn.

Grimmjow was ripped. As in, toned, healthy, not-an-inch of fat to be found type of ripped. And damn if he wasn't good looking.

Not that Ichigo was gay. He didn't consider himself as one, but sometimes guys needed to check out other guys. Now that Ichigo had the opportunity to, he seized it. He grinned at his reflection in the clear glass. Grimmjow had a perfect smile, and nice teeth to boot. Plus he didn't have any pimples or moles or pockmarks. The girls at school would wet their panties just by looking at him. Ichigo muttered a swear word in his moment of profound envy.

Next he checked out his torso. Strong, broad chest with hard muscle and nipples a dusty pink. There was hardly a scar to be seen, despite Ichigo having slashed Grimmjow a couple months back in a fight. Another muffled oath as Ichigo glared at Grimmjow in the mirror.

"Fucking lucky bastard."

Then he smiled again, this time a softer, genuine smile. The kind Ichigo liked using whenever he had to turn down girls who asked him out behind the Physics laboratory in block C. Grimmjow was handsome. And he looked kind of cute when he smiled like that – without the usual shit eating grin everyone was accustomed to receiving. Ichigo trailed his fingers down Grimmjow's chest and sighed. He would kill to be as well built as the Sexta. Speaking of well built…

His blue eyes traveled southward to the tufts of pale blue hair peeking from beneath the garter of Grimmjow's black boxers – made of silk, and manufactured in some upscale designer factory located in the mountains of Switzerland, oh for the love of god and all things expensive! – where a sizeable bulge could be seen. Ichigo bit his lower lip – Grimmjow's lower lip – and considered the rights and wrongs of doing what he was about to do.

Oh what the hell. Grimmjow wasn't here anyway, and Ichigo was sure the Sexta would be doing the same thing. He slid his thumbs past the waistband and tugged them down with one quick, fluid move.

Wow, the world really was unfair. Grimmjow was perfect _everywhere_.

x

Grimmjow fidgeted uncomfortably on his seat in class. Technically, it was Ichigo's seat, and this was his Math class. The teacher was a tall, skinny woman with beady black eyes and a very sharp, alert look that gave her the serious impression of a stern eagle. Grimmjow had no idea what to do with the paper set before him; just his luck that the day he woke up to find himself in Ichigo's body was the day Niimamura-sensei decided to toss the students of class 3-E a pop quiz, and leave them to fend for themselves with the tricky math questions.

He'd managed to play his cards right in the Kurosaki household. He had absolutely no idea the teenager had two younger siblings. Well, Aizen may have explained the fine details during several meetings, but it was during those meetings that Grimmjow had mastered the art of sleeping with his eyes open. Thankfully, the little brown bear, whom he had come to know as Kon, had been a lot of help.

"You should be in school, Ichigo! It's not like you to go this late!"

Grimmjow tore his eyes away from the mirror to look at the little bear pounding on his right shin with bear hands. School? He'd gone past his schooling years.

"Hurry up, you have to skip breakfast!"

Kon had pushed the teenager's backpack toward him and tugged on his leg hair. Grimmjow kicked him away irritably.

"Quick!" Kon didn't seem to get injured very easily. In fact, the bear just jumped right back up and bounced onto the bed. "Get out of here so I can watch porn on your laptop!"

Grimmjow sighed. He wasn't sure if he should go to school as Ichigo, but if he didn't, he wouldn't be doing a very good job at keeping up his disguise. People who know something was amiss; something Grimmjow knew very well as an experienced fighting analyst.

Or so he liked to call himself, because it made his Most Sensible Common Sense shut up and crawl into a corner of his brain to die. And it stroked his Massive Ego just fine, too.

School it was, because he had to. And also because he was Ichigo now, thanks to Nnoitra's dirty paws and Szayel's craze for creating new ungodly items.

x

The math teacher towered over his desk for a good half minute, glaring down at him with a distinctly acid look. In her hands were several sets of papers that had been previously filled in by Ichigo. They had been marked and graded accordingly. Grimmjow blinked at them as they were thrust onto his desk – correction, Ichigo's desk – and scanned the words apprehensively. Plenty of glaring red Ds met his confused blue eyes. Ichigo must have been horrible at math.

Well, Grimmjow mused, it probably wasn't the boy's fault. Between trying to keep his secret Shinigami identity on the low, the boy had other things like raging hormones and keeping annoying Arrancar off his home turf. That, and running away from this doe eyed, large breasted girl with long hair almost the same shade as his own. The second Grimmjow had stepped onto the school grounds – after he'd managed to find his way to Ichigo's school, that is; she had leapt at him from the side, bouncing breasts practically hitting him everywhere below the chin as she pressed up against him with a syrupy greeting. It hadn't helped that she was holding a large salami-sized sandwich filled with three different kinds of bread paste, all of which ended up smeared on the side of his left sleeve. He'd had to utilize the boy's sprinting skills – which were vastly different compared to what he was used to; lithe, strong legs and a predator's agility – and dash behind one of the school's blocky buildings to get rid of her.

He had to remind himself that this was the human world, and as a ground rule, Arrancar were supposed to act accordingly in it. Grimmjow had quickly learned that his Hollow presence was now untraceable – there were no Shinigami after him, and no one seemed to know he wasn't Ichigo. In a way, this was a blessing in disguise. Now all he had to do was figure out a way to get back to Las Noches. He'd briefly considered the option of contacting Ulquiorra – despite not wanting to depend on the bastard, Grimmjow had to admit he made a good leader – but realized that would put him at immediate risk. Shinigami traces could be felt throughout Karakura town, and even then Grimmjow had a strong sense telling him there would be other enemies nearby. He could sniff out a Quincy and that one large breasted girl definitely had powers of some kind.

Thank Aizen he'd managed to outrun her. His elation and relief had been short lived, however, due to the sudden realization that Orihime was in every one of Ichigo's classes. When he'd entered the classroom, she had called out Ichigo's name in a loud, shrill voice that made practically every head turn his way. Grimmjow had quailed under the pressure of human eyeballs following his every move.

Grimmjow shuddered at the memory and squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. He could feel the teacher's eyes on him, watching him like a hawk. After a minute or two, she clacked over in her two-inch heels and slammed a hand down on his desk. Several students nearby jumped. The class was as silent as a tombstone; every other occupant had bated breath. Grimmjow blinked up at her. He could sense she was in a sort of angry mood. Faint tendrils of light red spiritual energy floated off her body in waves. She looked a little like Szayel when Nnoitra had gained access into his sacred laboratory.

"Kurosaki, it has been fifteen minutes into the quiz. I've noticed you haven't even picked up your pencil since I've distributed the papers."

Her voice was low and words perfectly punctuated something Grimmjow was highly aware of as being extremely dangerous. He didn't really know what to say. He wasn't sure if he should tell her the truth; he'd forgotten how to write. Learning reading and writing and counting had been things he'd done as a human, and that had probably been about centuries ago.

He realized he knew nothing about being human now. There was nothing he could do about it, especially not when he was somewhat powerless here. He'd been stripped of everything – powers, body and Arrancar skills.

"Well?" Her tone suggested she was seconds away from exploding.

Grimmjow decided to keep his mouth shut. It was the best way to not attract any more unwanted attention, especially not with a Quincy, a Fullbringer, and that busty, oblivious female within a two-meter radius of his person.

It wasn't a good idea.

Five minutes later found him kicked outside of class with a white detention slip and an armful of assignments to keep the average student busy for the next couple of months. Grimmjow looked at the file of papers and back to the stern, firm teacher.

"Kurosaki, I am not trying to punish you. This is my way of helping you. When you hold that school leaver's certificate in your hands, you'll appreciate what every teacher has done to make you the man you are when you graduate." Her beady eyes softened as she placed one hand on his shoulder. "Detention room two and I want those papers on my desk by the end of today."

Ichigo stared up at her and gave her the usual blank look he'd been walking about with all morning. Narrowing her eyes, the math sensei gave him a light shove to start him walking before shaking her head and shutting the classroom door.

Grimmjow used Ichigo's hand to scratch a light itch at the back of Ichigo's head.

He had no clue what the teacher wanted, and the parting gift she had thrust into his hands was just as confusing. Papers were something Szayel, Ulquiorra and Aizen dealt with. He decided to stop a passing student.

"You. What's 'detention'?"

x

Ichigo was scared stiff, though thankfully not to the extent of wetting his pants. Or actually, to be more accurate, Grimmjow's pants. He hadn't the foggiest notion when his soul would be sucked back into his original body, and knew Grimmjow wouldn't be too happy to find himself back with soiled trousers for sure. Neither would he. Ichigo could only hope the blue haired Espada shared the same interests as he did – coming back home safely and without further ado. Being switched into each other's bodies was already proving to be a giant mess without the need for extra details.

He walked along the pebbled corridor outside the Espada quarters with his hands in his pockets like he'd seen Grimmjow usually do. Lucky thing, too; it was the perfect excuse to hide his trembling hands. Every Arrancar he passed seemed to be eying him suspiciously, and Ichigo was sure he'd seen several cower behind a few pillars as he walked by. Strange.

"Grimmjow."

A hand on his shoulder made his insides freeze. Ichigo resisted the strong urge to inch away and make a run for it. He turned around and put on his best impression of the Sexta's sneer. Unbeknownst to him, he looked rather like he'd just ingested a whole peeled lemon.

Szayel tucked a lock of pink hair behind one ear and raised both eyebrows at the Sexta.

"How are you feeling?" He asked kindly.

It was clear Grimmjow was still enduring the side effects of his administered drug to keep the Atomizer gun poison at bay.

Ichigo ran through a thousand excuses in his mind before coming up with one that he thought was best.

"Like shit. Why do you care?"

Szayel sighed and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "It wouldn't be good for you to go to Karakura for today's mission, then."

At the mere mention of the town, Ichigo felt his insides defrost and jump around like springs in motion. There was a golden opportunity for him to find his way back to his own body! Urahara-san was sure to help him straighten things out once he'd explained his plight.

"I'm feeling much better already." Ichigo blurted out quickly before Szayel could turn away. "What's the mission about?"

Szayel shook his head. "Don't worry. I think I'll get Ulquiorra to assist Halibel instead. Get some more rest, Grimmjow. I'll see to it someone gives you some stomach medicine."

Ichigo almost died. "No, I don't need any more rest! Please let me go to Karakura!"

Instantly, he wished he'd kept his mouth shut. Szayel's eyes were sharp, piercing, and seemed as though they could see through his poor excuse of a disguise. A white gloved hand felt his forehead in a businesslike manner, and a thin flashlight obscured his vision as Szayel lifted both his eyelids to perform a quick check. Ichigo stood still, not daring to breathe.

"Grimmjow, I understand your burning desire to hunt down that Kurosaki boy and introduce him to your sword, but I really think you need some sleep. Besides, this isn't an important mission; Ulquiorra just needs to gather some data. And we all know what happens when you tag along on his team. You get bored and hungry and refuse to act like an adult unless someone buys you that red bean bun you like so much from the corner store where we usually arrive at."

Ichigo opened his mouth – not because he wanted to say something, but because he was in total surprise at how surprisingly human-like Grimmjow seemed – and received a light smack on the side of his face.

"Now don't argue, we all have our cute moments." Szayel turned him around and gave him a light push. "Head to the kitchens and eat something. I'll be sending your medicine over in a bit."

Then he was gone, click clacking away in his boots to the front entrance of the building, humming a song that sounded vaguely familiar. Ichigo felt lost. Now what on earth was he supposed to do? Find Ulquiorra and beg to be allowed on the mission? Was that what Grimmjow usually did? Beg for red bean buns? No. That was utter rubbish. He needed to think clearly.

But getting some food into his growling stomach did seem a whole lot more appealing than thinking of ways to escape.

Logic won over his debating conscience, and the teen walked forward, wondering where the kitchen was located. Szayel had most likely pushed him in the right direction, but Aizen's fortress was a maze.

Ichigo just decided to trust his nose.

x

I was in a giggly mood throughout the time I was attempting to write this chapter. Merry (late) Christmas everyone! What're your plans for 2013?


End file.
